You Know Nothing
by GBlove
Summary: Takes place from the moment John Snow and Ygritte see each other at the Battle of Castle Black, except her fate is altered. Will make multi-chapter if I receive positive feedback.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to George R.R. Martin.**

Jon Snow wiped the blood off his face, stumbling over to where he'd thought he dropped his sword, when the sight before him stopped him in his tracks. For a minute, he just stared at her, unable to move, but then all he could do was smile, glad to see her, even with an arrow drawn, pointing at him.

_Most girls aren't like you._

He would never understand how she did it. He was Jon Snow, Man of the Night's Watch; he was a Crow; watcher on the walls.

And then he looked at Ygritte and that person was gone, disappeared.

He kept his gaze on her, her fiery wisps of hair that mingled in the breeze, her steadfast glare. She looked back at him like no one else ever could.

_If we die, we die. But first we'll live._

And then the arrow came; it struck her backside, making her jolt and drop her bow and arrow.

When Jon Snow was a child, he grew very sick with a fever one night; no one expected him to live. He remembered feeling like all the life had drained from him, as if he had nothing left on the inside to keep him going.

This was what he felt when he saw Ygritte drop to her knees during the Battle of Castle Black.

He ran to her side before she fell over completely and took her in his arms.

"You're alright," he said to her instinctively, "You'll be fine."

"I know I will be," she gasped, "It caught me arrow pack; only grazed my skin. It caught me off guard is all, s'why I fell."

Breathing heavily, Jon looked over her shoulder; she was right. The arrow was lodged in the archery pack she had slung over her back; maybe just the tip had succeeded in reaching her skin. He let out a breath, a mixture of relief and hysteria in his eyes. And then, still holding her, he began to laugh.

Right there, as Crows and Wildings fought all around them, as people were dying, Jon Snow laughed and laughed.

"Gods, you've gone mad," Ygritte breathed, giving him a quizzical look, reaching back to pull the arrow out of the fabric, "this place really 'as done a number on you, hasn't it?"

His smile widened at this, and he just looked into her eyes, which to him had the light of a thousand suns.

Without another word, he scooped her up, climbing to his feet.

"Put me down!" she demanded, as he trudged toward the castle doors, away from all the fighting. "I don't need you to to rescue me, Jon Snow!" she shot at him when he ignored her.

"If taking you away's the only way to keep you safe then so be it," he said gruffly.

"I don't need you to keep me safe!" she retorted furiously, trying to free herself from his grasp, but she was no match for his strong build. "I'm just fine on me own!"

"I know you are. Now be quiet," he entered the castle and hurried down a corridor. He opened the first door he came to and hustled inside, shutting it behind them. They saw that it was some kind of stock room, with cases of wine stacked all around. Knowing she'd want to go back out and fight, he set her down on the ground and laid right on top her her. It was the only way to keep her from running off.

"You get off me, fuckin' Crow!" she spat at him.

"It's good to see you too," he told her. Then, smiling to himself, he realized that their roles had been reversed. When they'd first met, it was Ygritte who'd persisted, who'd annoyed him to no end when all he did was fight her away.

"You know you can't hold me down forever, Jon Snow," she told him, "You can't keep chasing me."

"Then stop runnin'," he said fiercely.

He wanted more than anything to kiss her, but he restrained himself. Knowing her, she might bite his lip off if he tried anything at the moment.

"You know that I had to leave you-"

"Don't," she said in a warning voice.

"I didn't want to. But I couldn't betray my brothers just like you couldn't turn on your people. It's our blood; it's who we are."

"Bullshit," she said, "If you 'ad an ounce of loyalty in you, you'd of killed me back there. You would of killed me the first time we ever met. If you're so loyal to your 'brothers', why don't you just do it now while you're still young and pretty, and you can find another girl to keep you warm at night?"

He laughed. "Have you forgotten what I am? I'm not looking for any girl to keep me warm."

"Oh... is that so?" The corners of her mouth twitched up slightly.

The look on her face made him pause. "Ygritte..."

"So what's your big plan now, Jon Snow? Kill me so you can go on playing with your fancy swords? Keep me hostage like last time?"

"If we go now, no one would know," he said, "we could do it. They'd never catch us."

At that moment, the door swung open to reveal Alliser Thorne standing in the doorway.

"What the Hell are you doing, Snow?"

"I'm going to keep this one captive, " he told Thorne, "Use her as a spy. There are more Wildings that we didn't see tonight; they'll attack soon. She's more useful to us alive than dead."

Thorne studied him for a long moment, then lightened his gaze. "I trust you, Snow."

"Is the battle still being faught?"

"Rayder surrendered. We're keeping him and a few others hostage. We can put her with them." He gestured to Ygritte.

Jon nodded. "I'll take care of her. You go on."

When he was gone, Jon sighed and averted his gaze from Ygritte. She raised an eyebrow at him. "So I was right. You're gonna make me your prisoner again, Jon Snow. Because you're too scared to just kill me." She finished in a mocking tone, then said more seriously, "Even when you know I was plannin' on puttin' and arrow through your heart?"

"But you wouldn't have," he looked right at her.

After a minute, she shook her head and said softly, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

**Thanks for reading, let me know if you want me to continue! **


	2. Chapter 2

Jon Snow had taken Ygritte down to the dungeons after his chat with Thorne; it hadn't been his original intent, but it seemed he was stuck at the moment. Once they'd been seen together by another Crow, making a getaway that same night would be entirely too risky.

Lucky for him, Thorne had grown to trust him with time. He wouldn't suspect him to be making any alliances with people other than his brothers, especially not Free

Folk. He'd known that Jon had traveled with the wildings, but as far as he was concerned, it was strictly as their prisoner.

...

_They sat together a short ways away from the other wildings, leaned up against a large boulder._

_"Alright, what did you want to be when you were a child?" She asked him. They'd been going back and forth like this for a while now, asking each other questions about their very different lives._

_"Well, I've wanted to be in the Night's Watch since I was fourteen. S'when I joined; I traveled to the wall with my uncle."_

_"Is that really what you always wanted?"_

_"I wanted what I thought it was. No one really warned me until it was too late, what it really meant guard the wall. I learned to accept the truth of things; in this world we get what we get. It's a good enough life."_

_"Good enough isn't good enough," she murmured._

_They were both quiet for a moment, and then he said, "My turn. Tell me about your family."_

_"My parents were both very brave," she said, "and they both died when I was very young. That's all I know about them. I had no brothers or sisters."_

_"What's your biggest fear?"_

_"That's a trick question; I'm not afraid of anything. You should know by now, we're all raised to fear nothing."_

_"Everyone's afraid of something."_

_"Well I"m not everyone, am I?"_

_He smiled. "No, you're not everyone."_

_Her eyes flickered to his. "Did you ever want to get married? You know, before you swore your big oath and all that."_

_"Never gave it much thought, really. I knew I would never be heir to Winterfell since I was a bastard; where I come from people get married mostly to carry on their legacies. Atleast men, anyway. Girls marry __young because they're eager to have someone to open doors for them."_

_Ygritte tilted her head to the side in confusion. "Why can't they open their own doors?"_

_She was genuinely perplexed at this, at why a girl couldn't open doors for herself. This was what Jon Snow liked best of all about Ygritte: she wasn't like the girls he'd known growing up in a castle. None of them would be confused by his statement. Ygritte however, killed her own game, made her own weapons, made her own choices._

_Jon Snow fell in love with Ygritte because she opened her own doors. They were equals; he knew if she wanted to she could probably kill him in a fight with a smile on her face. She both terrified him and comforted him, and he was still unsure of how that was possible._

_..._

He put her in a cell separate from the other captives, in a room away from them.

"I need to figure out what we're going to do," he told her, making sure to keep his voice down. "Just stay here tonight and I'll be back in the morning."

He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Sam standing in the doorway. He looked at Jon, then at Ygritte, then back at Jon.

"Is that her?" He whispered loudly.

"Her?" Ygritte said before Jon could answer, "you've been telling all your virgin friends the tale of the time you got to put your cock inside an exciting, foreign woman?"

"Well, I heard it was more 'an once," Sam said. Jon shot him a look.

"I need you to keep quiet about this," he told Sam, "no one can know about me and her. If Thorne knew," he glanced at Ygritte, then pulled Sam out into the corridor.

"If Thorne knew he'd kill her an' me, an' probably you too while he's at it."

"You're not planning to run off, are you?" Sam asked, a worried look in his eyes.

"I'm not planning anything." Jon said.

* * *

Afterwards, Jon went to find Thorne, thinking the best thing he could do right now was instill confidence in his superior that they were both on the same page.

He found him upstairs in the armory.

"They're all locked up, sir," he said to his back.

Turning around, Thorne nodded and said "Very well. I suggest you try to get some rest. I expect the second wave of them will reach us within three days, four if we're lucky."

"Yes sir." He bowed and made for the door but turned back around at the last minute.

"I spent a lot of time with the Free Folk. I know how they think. I can be the one to question them."

"We'll see. Get some rest, Jon. I need you sharp."

* * *

He rose at five thirty the next morning, unable to sleep any longer even though he hadn't gone to bed until nearly quarter past two.

Ygritte was fast asleep when he arrived down in the dungeons. She was sitting on the ground near the latch, her head resting against one of the thick, iron bars.

He used to watch her sleep sometimes during those long, cold nights out in the valleys. It was the only time she ever really looked at peace; awake she was constantly full of energy and spirit.

...

_Jon lay awake in the middle of the night, curled up next to Ygritte in the grass. They were face to face, and he studied her features for a moment, taking advantage of the rare stillness that encompassed her. She wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense: long, flowing hair, fair skin and a softness to the face. But something about her triggered a nerve inside him. Her roughness, her hard edges, her lack of a filter when she spoke. She was all the things he never knew he wanted, but once he had her, he knew he couldn't go the rest of the life without her._

_"Ygritte," he whispered. She made no move. He nudged her and whispered her name, a little louder this time. There was no response once again, the heavy sleeper she was, so he propped himself up on one elbow, and leaned down over her, speaking directly into her ear. "Ygritte."_

_Her eyes opened lazily and then dropped right back shut._

_"Jon Snow," she mumbled, half asleep._

_He reached over and brushed her red hair off of her face. She opened her eyes for real this time and he pulled her close to him. Ygritte took his hand in hers and used her index finger to trace the lines on his palm. She gave him a brief but tender kiss before laying her head down on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and they both fell asleep like that._

_..._

He let himself watch her a moment longer before kneeling down and nudging her shoulder.

"Ygritte," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open and settled on his face. It had seemed she'd become a lighter sleeper these days.

"You're real," she said sleepily, "thought you might 'ave been a dream. Or a nightmare. Haven't decided which yet." She stretched and yawned.

"Will you go to Winterfell with me?" He asked.

She cocked her head to the side. "Winterfell?"

He didn't say anything, just searched her face. He knew he probably had few, if any allies left there, and he had no idea of the shape it was in. But it was the only place he could think to turn to.

He knew Ygritte; she didn't want him doing her any favors. But he hoped like Hell that maybe this one time she'd bend her own rules.

Ygritte gazed at him through the bars. Jon Snow.

She thought back to that night when she and her people had gone on one of their raiding parties. She'd killed many men and women that night, ruthless as usual, showing pity to nobody.

Except for one.

...

_ She pulled back the curtain, ready to spear whoever she found behind it. What she saw was a young woman crouching in the corner, shaking with fear. And in her arms was a baby, no older than a few months._

_Ygritte's mind traveled to the previous month, soon after she'd shot Jon Snow with her arrow and he'd ridden off. She hadn't bled at all that month, nor had she this one. She could barely keep any food down, yet her abdomen was slightly more swollen than usual. _

_She pressed her pointer finger to her lips, signaling the woman with the baby to keep quiet. And then she was gone._

_..._

"When will we leave?" She asked Jon.

Surprised, he replied, "late tonight. When everyone's asleep."

"Will we ride out?"

He shook his head. "No, it'll attract too much attention. We'll go on foot. Be ready."

She glanced around the small cell. "I've been ready."

"Right then," he said, standing to his feet, "I'll see you at midnight."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story and giving feedback, I appreciate you all so much! **

That night when the clocks read quarter till midnight, Jon Snow receded to his quarters for what he thought may very well be the last time. He packed a few items, some clothing, knives, some food he'd taken from the kitchen when the cook wasn't looking, and of course, his sword.

Ghost lay on his bed watching him all the while. Jon knelt down before he left and scratched behind the dire wolf's large ears.

"You've served me well," he told him quietly, "you've been a good companion. Sam will look after you." With a final pat he rose to his feet and picked up his pack of supplies, slinging it over his shoulder. When he reached the doorway he turned around one last time to get a final look at the place, at his wolf, and then he blew out the candle and set off down the stairs.

It was a long way down to the dungeons, and as he walked through the dark castle Jon Snow thought long and hard about what a fool he was. Here he was, betraying his men yet again, possibly ruining his chances of ever becoming commander of the watch. He remembered years ago, before he'd even taken the vows to guard the wall, Jaime Lannister had spoke to him at Winterfell about his endeavors.

_Give my regards to the Night's Watch. I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force, and if not...it's only for life._

He'd only been a teenager then, but he'd felt so certain that it would be the only life for him. He was a bastard; there was no place for him in any royal family, or any place he'd ever been for that matter. The best thing he could ever be was a man of the Night's Watch.

But he'd sworn to himself, what seemed like a century ago, that if the Gods ever have him another chance with Ygritte he'd never let her slip away again.

She was already on her feet when he entered the room she was locked up in.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, twisting the key in the lock.

She just nodded, watching his hands.

Opening the door to the cell, he reached around in his bad and pulled out a piece of bread. He handed it to her and she took it, stepping out of the iron cage.

"We have to keep quiet and move quickly," he told her.

"You don't need to tell me how to make an escape," she said, "I wasn't born yesterday."

"You don't know Castle Black. Just follow me."

They ascended up the stairs from the dungeons, passing all the food stores and the library of ancient texts. Jon Snow had to keep telling Ygritte to be quiet.

"What's in that room?" she asked.

"A lot of old books," he whispered, "now no more questions."

Silently, they passed through the courtyards and made it outside the castle walls, making their exit through Kingsroad.

"You know, for the men who supposedly 'guard the wall', it's really bloody easy to get in and out of the fuckin' place without anyone knowin'. What does that say about the Night's Watch?" She looked at him teasingly.

"It's easy for someone like me, who knows the castle backward and forward." Saying this, he had to suppress a grin. Even though she'd spent the better half of the past twenty four hours badgering him, the only thing he'd felt toward Ygritte since the battle was happy to see her. On those long, cold nights he spent alone, the thought of her red hair kept his heart warm; no girl in all of Westeros could make him smile except for Ygritte.

They walked along the road side by side in the dark, and after a while Jon noticed Ygritte looking at him.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked.

"I like staring at handsome men." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "You're warm. Are you blushing, Jon Snow?"

He just stared straight ahead and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, a slight look of bemusement on his face; that was how Ygriite had always made him feel. Bemused. He had to admit that she kept him on his feet, always wondering what erratic move she'd make next, what bold thing she would say. Although he regretted to admit it, at times Ygritte had twice the balls he did when it came to nerves.

She smiled and looked away from him. "S'good to know I can still get ya' all flustered without even trying."

Jon thought back to the day he'd betrayed Ygritte and her people, the day she put three arrows in him.

...

_When he'd ridden far enough away, he stopped at the top of the hill to look back, maybe get one last look at her. But she was already out of sight, gone from his life as quickly as she'd stumbled into it. It was in this moment that bits of the last few months seemed to flash through his mind. The way the sunset looked when you stood at the top of a tall mountain, and everything around you basked in its golden luminescence. Staying up for late night talks when they should have been resting. Ygritte's eyes. A love that was damned from the beginning, but no less true. With a heaviness in his heart, and an aching pain from both the arrows and the circumstances, he rode off without another thought, and didn't look back again._

_..._

"How far is Winterfell?" she asked him.

"I've never made the journey on foot," he told her. "On horseback, a few days."

"So it'll be twice as long. Maybe more."

"Could be."

"What happens when we get there? What's your big plan?"

"Haven't figured that part out yet." He gave her a sideways look.

"Let's play a game," she announced abruptly.

"A game?"

"Would you rather be sexually attracted to _only _pine cones, or to dead people?"

"What?"

"It's a game of preference; I used to play it when I was a child. Just answer the questions."

He hesitated. "Dead people."

"You sick fuck!"

"You said answer the question! Would you have chosen pine cones?"

She laughed, then said, "Alright, your turn. Ask me."

"Would you rather be blind or deaf?"

"Boring," she said. "Deaf, obviously. Would you rather watch your parents have sex a hundred times, or just once but have to join in?"

He laughed. "You're messed up, you know that? Join in once, I suppose. Would you rather be executed tomorrow or spend the rest of your life behind bars?"

"Executed. Would you rather lick the bottom of Mance Rayder's foot..." she paused to think, and Jon shook his head, smiling. "...or wake up next to Stannis Baratheon, naked and sore, unable to remember a thing, and have him say 'you were a feisty one, Jon Snow'."

They kept playing into the night until the both of them were weak with laughter. Toward daybreak, when they felt they were a safe distance from Castle Black they bedded down to close their eyes for a few hours before they continued on their way. Before falling asleep, Jon realized that somewhere along their journey thus far, he'd been overcome with a sense of contentment, of peace; the feeling that everything would somehow be okay.

He didn't know what would happen the next day or the day after that, but at that moment, laying there with Ygritte by his side, everything was just fine.


	4. Chapter 4

_One day, several weeks before The Battle of Castle Black, a young boy showed up on the grounds, revealing his name to be Olly._

_"The wildlings raided my village," he gasped, half sobbing, half yelling, "A red haired girl shot my father with an arrow then killed my mother with a spear. They made me watch." _

_Jon Snow froze. Ygritte. He exchanged a look across the room with Sam, who seemed to understand._

_"They said they're coming here."_

_Later, Sam approached Jon as they stood watch on The Wall that night._

_"Was that your girl they were talking about back there?" He asked quietly._

_"She's not my girl," he said quickly, and then, "but yes, it sounded like her."_

_"She killed that boy's parents in front of him. I knew the wildlings were harsh, but I guess I never really knew how cruel."_

_Jon shot him an aggravated look. "Ygritte's killed a lot of people, Sam. And a lot of people have tried to kill her. That's why it's called an army. Everyone dies eventually; does it really matter how or when?"_

_"Of course it matters," Sam said. "Are you alright, Jon?"_

_"Fine." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired of staying up half the night waiting for the wildlings to come is all."_

_"Yeah, me too." _

_They were both quiet for a while, as they walked up and down their length of The Wall. What Jon didn't tell Sam was that he hadn't even been ordered to keep watch; he'd volunteered. _

* * *

"Where the bleeding fuck is Snow?" Thorne asked the next morning, storming into the mess hall where Sam sat breaking his fast with a few others.

"What do you mean?" Asked Sam through a mouthful of potatoes.

"What I _mean_ is that he's not in his sleeping chambers, he's not in the courtyard, he's not here, he's not on the _wall, _he's not on the grounds _anywhere."_

"I'm sure he's around somewhere," Sam said, swallowing his food with a big gulp. "Did you check the armory?"

"And you know what else?" Thorne asked, ignoring the question, "That wildling bitch is missing too. Put two and two together, boy, he's run off with her."

"No," Sam muttered, "No, he wouldn't do that."

"Seven Hells. Open your eyes, Samwell." He shook his head bitterly. "We're sending out a party of men to track both of them down."

"You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"You don't betray the Night's Watch and get away with it; he knows that. He's stupid, but he knows that much." He turned to leave, and said as he marched away, "I hope she was worth it to him."

Sam turned back to the table, his eyes full of worry.

"Can't believe it," one of the others muttered. "I mean, Snow? Most of us expected him to become Lord Commander one day." The few other men sitting with them nodded in agreement to this, but Sam just stared down at his plate.

_Run fast, Jon, _he thought, _run fast and get somewhere they'll never find you._

* * *

"Did you like growing up in a castle?" Ygritte asked him.

He shrugged. "Sure I liked it."

And he had; he may have been a bastard, but he was a lord's bastard, and he knew he had privileges many could only dream of. He'd grown up easy, with a comfortable bed to sleep in every night, and his half siblings to play with all day. His wealthy standing allowed him to embrace life fully, and fall in love with the simple aspects of the world, like the way the sun set over the hills at night.

"I have five brothers and sisters," he told her, smiling at the thought of Arya's wildness, or Bran's kind nature. "Or had, at least," he frowned. "Robb was the same age as me. The Lannisters killed him and Catelyn Stark on the same night. I don't know where the rest are; things fell apart when my father and Catelyn were killed. Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon; now he's dead, who knows what happened to her. Rickon was still very young when I left. Bran fell from a tower and can't use his legs now, and Arya..." He paused. Four years it had been, since he'd seen his dear sister. "Arya reminds me of you; you'd like her." He looked at Ygritte. "She always wanted to fight with the boys instead of learn to sew." He laughed, a little sadly. "She hated the woman who gave her sewing lessons, was always getting herself into trouble. I gave her a sword right before I left for Castle Black. She knows how to look after herself; I'm sure wherever she is, she's alright." He said this, almost trying to convince himself the words were true.

"You miss them," Ygritte observed, "I know the nights watchmen are told to forget about their family, but I guess you never were one to follow the rules, were you?"

"There are things more important than following rules."

They'd woken a few hours ago, and had immediately set off again, eating as they walked.

"They'll be looking for you," Ygritte said, "They'll want to find you and kill you; kill us."

"I know," was all he said.

"Winterfell will be the first place they look."

"I know. We're not going to Winterfell. I only said that because I had no other plan."

"You still don't have a plan."

"Do you?"

"We could go north. Where I'm from."

"We're not going north now that we've been walking south for ten hours."

"Fine. Have it your-" Before she could finish her sentence, she clutched her stomach, doubled over and vomited right in the snow, barely missing Jon's feet.

He jumped back. "What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed.

She spit a few times and wiped her mouth before standing up. "Wouldn't be surprised if I had food poisoning from that rancid meat you gave me."

"I ate it too. Why aren't I puking?"

"You're used to it," she walked in front of him so he wouldn't see her face, afraid it might give something away.

"Do you need to stop for a bit?" He asked, rushing ahead to catch up with her.

She shook her head. "I'm fine; we need to keep moving."

Her excuse had worked in satisfying Jon this time, but what would happen the next time she got sick, she didn't know. He may know nothing, but even he wouldn't be fooled by a false food poisoning cover up twice.

...

_They kissed each other roughly, almost urgently, before Ygritte dropped down to her knees._

_"You sure we can't just do it like normal?" She asked, looking up at him._

_"Yes," he replied, glancing around to make sure none of the other free folk were near, as she undid the ties on his pants. "I'm okay with most blood. But not that kind of blood."_

_She laughed, and said "It won't hurt you."_

_She'd been having her blood the past few days, and poor Jon Snow had had to find out the hard way. _

_They'd been going at it one day in a cave, and he'd been nearly finished when he looked down, and practically cried out at the sight._

_Ygritte, of course, had thrown her head back with laughter._

_"It's not fair, really," she now mused, pulling his trousers down. "You getting all the pleasure while I'm here doing all the work. I think it's time you got over your fear of blood."_

_"I'm not afraid of blood."_

_"No? Prove it. Make love like a true free man." She stood up and shrugged her thick coat off, then her own pants. To her delight, Jon didn't try and stop her._

_..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long wait, I've been super busy with work lately! Thank you to everyone who's been reading :) **

Jon awoke suddenly, shivering, and unable to remember falling asleep. He sat up groggily and looked around. Ygritte was nowhere in sight.

His first thought was that she'd run off in the night, thinking that sounded like something she would do. But not three seconds later he heard a rustling to his left, and out appeared Ygritte with two dead foxes slung over her shoulders.

"Sleep well?" She called out to him. "How about you cook these up. I like the sound of that: the woman doing the hunting and the man serving it to her. Has a nice ring to it."

Jon blinked, still not quite woken up. "You went hunting?" He asked dumbly.

Ygritte dumped her game in the snow in front of him and turned back around toward the trees.

"Where are you going now?" He asked.

"We're going to need a fire, aren't we? That means we'll need firewood too. Try to keep up, m'lord. And while yer at it why don't you start skinnin' one of those pups."

Jon climbed to his feet. They'd been at it two days now. He'd wanted to travel through the woods along the wall but he'd been overruled by a persistent Ygritte who claimed trekking through the mountains would be safer. It was the wildling way, Jon knew, to choose the roughest trails. He just hoped that when the rangers came hunting them down they took the kingsroad.

They'd run out of food the previous day, which was all the better to Ygritte, who found it near impossible to keep the salted meat down that he'd brought from Castle Black. Jon thought this a little curious; she'd never had a sensitive stomach in the past, but he didn't dwell on the matter too long. He had bigger concerns, like where they were going and trying not to get killed on the way.

They'd agreed on ruling out Winterfell, as well as anywhere north of the wall. Ygritte had briefly lingered on the thought of finding a wildling village to join, but the watchmen would surely come looking for them there.

Sighing, he blinked the tiredness from his eyes and knelt down next to the two foxes. He saw Ygritte had hit each one square in the eye and couldn't help smile a bit; he'd always wondered how she managed to do that.

The first fox was skinned and ready to be cooked by the time she returned, an ax in one hand, a bundle of sticks and branches in the other. Jon glanced up at her arrival.

"We should hurry," he said, looking back down.

"Got any more ideas to where we're going?" Ygritte tossed the wood down in a pile and sat down next to him.

Jon shook his head. "No. You?"

"No," she muttered, beginning to rub two stick together. "Besides, I don't think there's really anywhere _to _go. You're a traitor now, and I'm who I am. Which reminds me, you really need to get rid of all that black; any fool could spot you from a mile away and know exactly who you are."

"Get rid of it," he echoed, "And what, walk around in the snow naked?"

Ygritte smirked and blew lightly on the trail of smoke emerging from the woodpile. "We can find a village somewhere to trade at. Don't worry, I'll do all the talking. You just stand there and look pretty."

...

Once their hunger was satisfied they were on the move again, hiking through the icy, rock covered trail.

"Do you think it's smart for us to be out in the open like this during the day?" Ygritte asked him.

"No. But I want to put as much distance between us and The Wall." He glanced over at her and was taken aback by the sickly look on her face, the paleness of her skin and lack of expression in her eyes. "Ygritte," he said, halting in his tracks and putting hand on her shoulder to stop her as well, "Are you sick again?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head and avoided eye contact.

"What's wrong," he demanded, looking at her intently.

She hesitated a long moment, keeping her gaze averted to the path beside them, suddenly very intent on watching an icicle that dripped from a large slab of rock.

"Ygritte," he said again, more gentle this time.

At this, she lifted her eyes and looked right at him, then slowly reached out and took one of his hands.

"What are you...?" He began to ask, but was silenced by the look she gave him. With her other hand she untied the string that kept her thick furs closed around her, letting them fall open to reveal another layer of wool. Pulling Jon's hand closer to her, she lifted up the fabric and placed his palm on her round belly.

For a moment he just stared down at his hand over her fair skin, skin that he'd long ago memorized every inch of. Now it seemed foreign to him.

"What...what..." he stammered once able to find his breath. "Are you...are you saying you're..."

"In _delicate condition_?" she asked in a false lady like voice.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice hardened.

"Well, before a few days ago I wasn't sure If I'd ever see you alive again."

"You've had two whole days of hardly leaving my sight, you couldn't find a spare moment to fill me in?" He let out a shaky breath and looking down, realized he still hand his hand pressed to her stomach. He pulled it away, letting the loose wool fall back down.

"Seven hells boy, I gave you every hint there was! D'you really think the fucking _meat _made me sick? The Free Folk feast on boiled moose tongue!"

Grimacing, Jon tried to stay on topic. "How far along are you?"

"I dunno, two and a half months, maybe three." She crossed her arms.

"And..." he struggled with how to word this next question, "you're sure it's mine?"

"You're asking if I've fucked anyone since you, go ahead, you can say it Jon Snow."

"Fine. Have you?" he threw his hands up.

She shrugged and yawned. "Can't remember," raising an eyebrow she added, "maybe. Maybe not."

"How can you not remember," he sighed, exasperated, running a hand through his thick hair.

"What difference does it make to you anyhow? If it's yours you stay, if it's not you run back to Castle Black and plead for their forgiveness? Say I kidnapped you?"

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how his life had come to this point. When he opened them Ygritte was still standing there, now tying her furs back up. He watched her a moment longer, then asked, "Are you alright to keep walking?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she answered, looking mildly offended, not surprising Jon. "And I'll be fine on my own like I always have been, so why don't you just turn back around and run home. I wouldn't want to burden you."

"Do you remember that time," he said with a faraway look in his eyes, "you said _you're mind and I'm yours?"_

"If we die, we die," Ygritte said, as she did all those months ago.

"But first we'll live," Jon completed.

A thick silence fell over them, a silence one only heard when they reached a crossroad in life. Jon looked around at the trees, the rocks, the snow, all too familiar and accusing. And for a moment longer, they both stood still, neither one speaking or making any move, just standing there teetering on the edge of something entirely unknown.

Jon didn't get scared often; he'd faced knights and warriors and men twice his size by the time he was fifteen, but nothing he'd ever battled was as terrifying as this small, red haird woman who stood before him.

"Well, he said, taking hold of her elbow and pulling her hood over her head, wondering if he was making the biggest mistake of his life, "Let's move."


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, here's chapter 6 and it's extra long! Enjoy and let me know what you think :)**

"Would your rather go to bed with a whitewalker or live out your days as Joffrey Baratheon's whore?"

Jon crinkled his face. "Well Joffrey's dead."

"I know, we're pretending he's not."

"Fine, whitewalker. Alright..." he glanced at her, "would you rather...take the black..."

She grimaced.

"...or serve as a slave in King's Landing."

"That depends, would you be at The Wall?"

"I don't know. Sure."

"Then-" She was cut off by an outburst of loud barking, a flash of white fur, then could only watch as Jon was tackled by the largest wolf she'd ever seen. Without thinking, she drew her bow and was just about to release an arrow into the beast's back when Jon yelled for her to stop.

"Wait! It's just Ghost, Ygritte. It's my wolf."

Reluctantly, she lowered her weapon and eyed the scene in front her her. Ghost had Jon pinned down on his back and was busy licking every inch of his face, his massive white paws pressing against the frazzled looking man's chest. He laughed and sat up slightly, patting the direwolf's head and ruffling his ears.

"Did you run all the way here from Castle Black?" he asked his dearly missed pet with a smile that quickly turned into a look of dread. "Does this mean they're following us?" he asked, unsure whether to himself or Ygritte or no one at all. He looked around, as if Thorne and twenty other watchmen would suddenly leap out of the bushes.

Ygritte reached around to put her bow and arrow back in its pack, then crossed her arms, frowning at Jon.

"What, you think cause your dog showed up the crows are right behind it?"

"Yes...no. I don't know. We should keep moving." He climbed to his feet, brow furrowed in uncertainty, and gave Ygritte's hand a gentle tug as he passed her. Sighing, she about faced and fell into step beside him. Ghost ran ahead a ways.

"How're you feeling?" He asked without looking at her, squinting into the sunlight reflecting off the snow.

"Never better."

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm' always hungry."

"I'd give you some of the fox meat but it's probably gone bad by now. When was it, two days ago, that we cooked it? I'd say our best option is to find an inn soon."

It had stopped snowing for the time being, offering better travelling conditions but also making them more visible; it was much easier to conceal oneself in a blizzard. They walked for three more hours, still going long after the sun had set, drifting in and out of conversation until coming upon the lights of an inn along the path, roughly fifty feet back. Without even having to glance in the others' direction, they both simultaneously turned off the trail and made their way up the jagged, stone stairway to the thin, two story building. Jon glanced back, looking for Ghost but wasn't worried when he couldn't spot him. He knew he'd probably run off to hunt and would return to them by morning.

Inside, the front room was dim, its only light source a mere oil lamp hanging in the center of the ceiling. Jon let the door close loudly behind him, evoking a slight rattle throughout the rickety, old building. They both heard a muffled grunt and some shuffling behind a curtain toward the back of the room, and an old man appeared from behind a curtain.

"Yes?" he demanded grumpily.

"Are any rooms available?" Jon asked him, noticing for the first time how tired he felt and realized it must be the middle of the night.

"Do you know what time it is, boy?" the innkeeper growled, casting a critical look upon the two snow covered travelers standing in his foyer.

Jon was about to open his mouth to try to rationalize with the fellow but Ygritte beat him to it. "D'you have a spare room or not, old man? We're not here to discuss what hour of night it is; we know it's late, that's why we came to your bloody inn in the first place." In one fluid motion she reached into coat pocket and pulled out a dagger. Jon began to say her name in a warning voice but she hushed him. "I'd suggest you get us a room and some fuckin' dinner if you'd like to keep your head on your neck, old man."

There was a brief, awkward silence after her words; Jon's eyes bounced back and forth between her and the innkeeper nervously, while the older man seemed to be temporarily frozen in shock. Finally, regaining his senses, he nodded briskly and turned on his haunches, disappearing back behind a wooden desk for a split second, reappearing with a key in hand, which he handed to Jon.

"Room three, first on the left once you reach the top of the stairs. Supper was served hours ago but the kitchen's open," he nodded to a door off to the side, "Make yourselves at home." With a final grunt and a cautious look in Ygritte's direction, he scurried back behind the curtain.

She laughed and made for the stairs; Jon shook his head in spite of the situation and followed. "I think you might have made the poor man piss himself," he whispered to her on the stairs, though not being very quiet.

"Someone needed to pull his head out of his ass."

Once they reached the landing Jon turned the key in the lock of the door labeled with a three. Pushing it open, he stepped inside and glanced around the small, candlelit space. There was one window that faced behind the inn, a small wooden chest of drawers, and a bed that was fairly small but would fit the both of them. He walked further inside and dropped his wool sack on the ground, then shrugged off his heavy furs. Ygritte did the same, placing her arrows and bow on the table, and leaving her outerwear in a heap. Her curved belly was more prominent with so fewer layers, and Jon caught himself staring more than once. He still hadn't fully gotten used to the idea of it all.

Once they were both ready they headed back out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. The room was pitch black when they entered but they quickly located a candle that Ygritte lit. Glancing around, they both first spotted a wooden bowl of apples that sat on a large splintery table. Jon picked one up and tossed it to her before taking one for himself.

She took a bite, letting some juice run down her chin and went to search through the cabinets above the large stove. Jon was vaguely aware that he'd never watched Ygritte going about things indoors before; they'd always been outside, or in some small hut. She'd been inside the castle at The Wall of course, but only as a prisoner; he didn't count that.

She combed through the dusty shelves, frowning at the bags of flour and sugar she came upon.

"Find anything?" He asked, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the kitchen.

"Not unless you know how to bake," she huffed, slamming the door closed. "Where's that old mess of a man? I'll go strangle him in his sleep until he gives us some real food."

Knowing she was likely serious, Jon said quickly, "I do know how to cook some things." She gave him a look of surprise and he added, "My sister taught me."

_"No, Rob, " Sansa said, frustrated. "You're putting too much flour. You're going to ruin them."_

_Rob just laughed and threw some of the white powder in her face, evoking giggles from Jon, Arya and Bran who sat up on the counter, watching the scene._

_"This is stupid," seven year old Arya announced. "We have cooks. Why would we ever need to know how to do it?" Bran nodded in agreement. _

_"Because," Sansa snapped, angrily wiping flour off her face and out of her hair, "you never know when it might come in handy. And its _fun._"_**  
**

_"It's not fun," Arya argued back. "It's boring and stupid." She looked to Jon for support. He shrugged. He'd wanted to practice sword fighting today like usual but the master of arms was away in one of the villages dealing with some matter or the other, and father wouldn't permit them to practice without supervision. Sansa had eagerly offered to show everyone how to make her lemon cakes._

_"Maybe you'll impress your wives one day," she said._

_Jon snorted at this. "No woman would be impressed by that."_

"What can you cook?" Ygritte asked skeptically.

"Lemon cakes."

"And?"

"...lemon cakes."

"Jon Snow," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "Man of the night's watch, knower of nothing..._baker of lemon cakes_?" She broke out in laughter.

"Alright," he said, trying not to smile. "Do you want to eat or not?"

"I suppose...don't know if I trust your chef skills or not. When's the last time you touched an oven?"

"The day Sansa taught me, I suppose. She showed us all, me, Rob, Arya and Bran. Rickon wasn't born yet."

"Is that what a lord's bastard does with his days? Bakes with his little sisters?"

"What does a little wildling girl do with her days?" he asked, leaning back against the counter in front of the stove so he was facing her.

She let out a breath that was somewhere between laughter and another annoyed huff. "We play with dolls and sing songs about princes and stare longingly at the horizon, wishing for our knight in shining armor to come take us away," she said sarcastically. She laughed again and looked away, but Jon caught something in her eyes. He tried to imagine Ygritte as a child, but all he saw was a smaller version of herself, running around with a miniature bow and arrow set yelling at people much bigger than her. Perhaps he wasn't so far off.

He glanced up at the cupboard that held the flour and sugar and had a thought. Grinning slightly, he looked at Ygritte. "Want to learn?" he asked.

"Learn what?" she eyed him.

"How to bake lemon cakes," he answered, not quite believing he'd just offered to teach a wildling how to bake.

"No," she said, "I don't want to bake them, I want to eat them."

"Come on," he said, suddenly intent on making this happen. "It won't take long."

She exhaled forcefully, but nevertheless, pushed herself up to a full standing position. "Well, what do we do first?" she asked, throwing her hands up. "Teach me everything you know, Lord Lemon Cakes."

He groaned inwardly, knowing now she was probably going to call him Lord Lemon Cakes forever.

"Get that flour and sugar out," he told her, looking around to find a bowl. Once he'd found one in a lower cabinet he walked back over to where she stood and placed it on the counter.

"Alright," he said, "It's been eight or nine years since she taught me, but I think we need to add four chicken eggs, butter, the flour and sugar, milk and...can't remember the last one..."

"...lemon?" Ygritte raised her eyebrows.

"...right."

...

"Alright stand right there," Jon told her, directing her to a place in front of the counter where they'd just assembled all of their ingredients into the large bowl. She did as told, and he stepped in behind her so that he was peering over the top of her head to see everything.

He picked up a whisk he'd found in a drawer and handed it to her, then took hold of her hand, gently placing his fingers over hers like a second skin.

"Now do exactly as I say," he murmured, feeling her flyaway hairs brush his chin.

"Exactly as you say," Ygritte repeated, only sounding half mocking.

He took a breath before he spoke again, trying to settle himself, but being this close to her again was bringing all sorts of old feelings to the surface. How could he concentrate on lemon cakes when he could smell her hair and feel her body up against his?

"First you have to mix it up," he guided her hand into the bowl and began to move it around in circular motions, stirring all the ingredients together. She soon got the hang of it but he didn't remove his hand from hers. They stayed like that for another few minutes until it was all one color in the bowl.

"Now what?" she asked, turning slightly so she was looking up at him.

Maybe it was the tiredness; maybe it was the late hour; maybe it was the endless walking they'd been doing the past few days. Maybe it was the way Ygritte looked at him, her hair tousled, a bit of batter on her cheek. He wanted to kiss it off her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her.

"Now this," he uttered breathlessly and leaned down, crashing his mouth against hers, kissing her like he'd ached to for so long. He heard her inhale sharply, and the whisk fall to the ground with a clatter. He kissed her lips some more, then her jawline and her chin, and her neck when she leaned her head back, opening it up. She tangled her hands in his hair and pressed her nose against his cheek.

Their lips found each other again and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him as closely as he could. He kissed her to make up for every every day, every second they'd lost from being apart.

When his mouth grew sore, he pulled back slightly and lifted her up on to the counter, causing the bowl of batter to crash down to the floor.

They hardly seemed to notice.

She began trailing kisses down his neck and he tried to concentrate on untying her trousers and his own, but it just felt so _good, _her mouth against his skin. It felt better than honor, or glory, or a sword in his hand; better than anything. Finally, when he had them undone he took hold of her hips and pulled her to him as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'd worried you'd forgotten how to do it," she whispered against his ear, playfulness in her voice, "I'm quite relieved." He responded to her jests by pressing his lips against hers, and after that no other words were spoken between them for quite some time.


End file.
